Part 15 (2/2)
Dahlia realized that her maid was watching her in the mirror. ”I was just thinking of how difficult it is to know one's own feelings.”
”Aye. I've been thinkin' aboot tha' meself of late.” The maid hesitated, and then asked, ”Miss, I hope ye dinna mind me askin', but wha' do ye think aboot an older mon?”
Goodness, how did Freya know Kirk was- She caught the maid's gaze and gave a relieved laugh. ”You have an older suitor!”
The maid's face pinkened. ”I was jus' askin', miss. Sometimes I think it might be well on to have a mon who is experienced in the ways o' the world, and no' a young foo' who's more interested in makin' himself happy. Young men know pa.s.sion, but an older mon knows how to woo a girl proper.”
That wasn't true about Kirk. He didn't know how to woo anyone. ”Who is this older man?”
”He's a valet. And verrah nice and-” The maid shook her head and, with a smile, fetched a shawl from the wardrobe. ”It dinna matter. Ye'd best be on yer way or ye'll miss yer meetin' wit' Lord Dalhousie.”
Dahlia allowed Freya to settle the shawl over her elbows.
”Off wit' ye, miss. And let me know wha' sort o' nonsense Lord Dalhousie tells ye aboot the Roxburghe family. It might make fer guid tellin' at the servant's dinner table.”
”I shall. And remember, I'm to play battledore at two, so I shall need a looser gown.”
”I'll be waitin' fer ye at one, miss.”
Dahlia left, pausing to pat the pug one more time. Whatever was going to happen with Kirk would happen, and she'd be ready for it. Straightening her shoulders, she turned and left-ready for come what may.
Ten.
From the Diary of the d.u.c.h.ess of Roxburghe
I expect certain things from my guests: good manners, a pleasant demeanor, a willingness to be entertained-odd as it may seem, these simple skills are not always found where one expects them to be. While I'm certain Kirk would not appreciate my interference, I refuse to allow two spoiled misses to mock a man on such a n.o.ble mission. I was prepared to take a stand and bring up the issue, but Lady Charlotte feels it would be best to allow Miss Balfour's plan to play itself out before I act.
If, as Charlotte hopes, Dahlia succeeds in pointing out the folly of such rudeness, I'll leave well enough alone. But if I find myself dissatisfied with the outcome, I shall speak-and speak loudly.
It is during these moments that I miss Roxburghe the most, and wish he were here and not out doing the prime minister's bidding. Roxburghe always knows how to remind people of their obligations with the lightest of words. Meanwhile, try as I might, my words fall like sledgehammers upon railway spikes-loud, forceful, and perhaps, at times, a bit firmer than necessary.
Although Dahlia would have relished a quiet breakfast before meeting Kirk, she arrived in the breakfast room to discover that far more than the usual dozen early morning guests were gathered about the table. She thought she might slip in and sit off by herself a bit and avoid discussion, but within moments of arriving, Mr. Ballanoch-a gossipy old man much inclined to present himself as an admirer of Lady Charlotte's, although she never seemed to notice him-brought up the afternoon's battledore tournament and (with an impertinently arch look) announced Dahlia's challenge to Lady Mary and Miss Stewart.
All conversation from that point on centered upon the coming game and battledore in general. Battledore was all the rage ever since soldiers returning home from adventures in India had brought the game with them. The Duke of Beaufort had confirmed the game's prominence by orchestrating tournaments for his guests.
The game had been a marvelous way for Dahlia and her sisters to pa.s.s desultory hours. As they were three girls with no other playmates within reach, they'd played two against one. At first they'd traded teams, but when it quickly became evident that Dahlia was far more talented than her sisters, she was consigned to her own team more and more often, which was how she liked it, anyway.
Judging by Lady Mary's and Miss Stewart's smug expressions yesterday, they thought they were quite talented, too. But Dahlia knew a few tricks, and because of the circ.u.mstances of their match, she was more than willing to use them. Of course, her determination had nothing to do with the fact that disparaging comments had been made about Lord Kirk, but rather because Miss Stewart and Lady Mary had dared mock someone from Dahlia's beloved Aberdeens.h.i.+re.
All too soon, the clock in the breakfast room chimed a quarter of ten, and Dahlia finished her tea and excused herself, slowed by the rounds of hearty good wishes for a successful game. It was odd how enthusiastic the other guests seemed to be. As she hurried down the wide hallway to the library, she mentally rehea.r.s.ed a very chilly and flat statement about why she no longer wished to partic.i.p.ate in Lord Kirk's flawed plan.
She slowed when she arrived at the library. Two footmen flanked the doors, both standing at attention as if they were palace guards. She eyed the one closest to her. ”Pardon me, Angus?”
Surprised she'd remembered his name, Angus sent her a startled glance. ”Aye, miss?” He couldn't have spoken more cautiously if she'd been a Bow Street runner and he a smuggler.
”Lord Kirk asked me to meet him in the library.”
”Aye, miss. He's waitin' on ye now. We're to let ye in.”
”I see. And then what are you supposed to do?”
Angus and Stuart, the other footman, exchanged warning looks. Angus offered a tentative smile. ”We're merely doin' our duty, miss.”
Stuart nodded vigorously.
”So is guarding the library doors a part of your regular duties? Shall I ask Lady Charlotte how-”
”Och, no! There's no need, miss. Indeed, I-” Angus gulped and then fell silent. He'd known from the first moment he clapped his peepers on Miss Balfour that she was a sharp one. I should ha' asked Lord Kirk fer mo' than a guinea once't he said we was waitin' on Miss Balfour. She had her arms crossed now, too, and he could see her slippered foot tapping away as if it was itching to kick his s.h.i.+ns. Worse, her expression reminded him far too much of his oldest sister, who was a wee thing, but as mean as a stirred badger.
He straightened his shoulders. ”Miss, as ye ha' surmised, Lord Kirk paid us to stand guard.”
”I see. And once I've entered, what are you to do?”
”We're to keep oot anyone as may wish to interrupt ye.”
”Aye,” Stuart agreed. ”Like guards, we are.”
”I see. Do guests often pay you to do such things?”
”All of the time.” Stuart blushed when her brows rose. ”Oy mean, er, no miss. Ne'er.”
”Stuart, dinna tell the miss such a tale.” Angus had no doubt she'd see right through any pretense, so it was best to simply speak the truth up front. ”It happens all o' the time, miss. Although no one has ever paid as much as his lor's.h.i.+p.”
”How nice of him to be so generous. Sadly, I must inform you that you are no longer needed.”
Angus was suddenly glad Lord Kirk had paid them in advance. He had plans for that money, he did. There was a certain pert maid he wished to prove something to, a Miss Freya of the Smart Mouth That Needed to Be Kissed. Or, if she didn't offer him a few kinder words, he might just spend it all on himself.
He turned to Stuart. ”Tha' is it, then. Miss Balfour says we're no' needed, and so we're no'.”
”Bu' his lords.h.i.+p-”
”His lords.h.i.+p will understand how 'tis. Now open the door fer Miss Balfour and leave it open, and then we'll be off. I've a notion, anyways, tha' I will be needed to carry the auld pug oop the stairs soon, fer Lady Charlotte was takin' it wit' her fer a walk.”
”Verrah weel.” Looking unhappy, Stuart opened the door wide and then stood to one side.
Dahlia took a steadying breath and, trying to still her racing mind, she entered the library. Now was the time to stand firm. She only wished her heart didn't ache so, as if she were hurting it herself.
She stepped onto the ornate rug and paused. It was a cloudy morning, leaving the pale swath of light that entered the terrace doors gray and wan. No lamps had been lit, so the only other light in the dark room came from the fire, which snapped and crackled cheerfully, as if aware it had to put forth more effort.
And yet the air remained gloomy, and Lord Kirk was nowhere to be seen. Dahlia took a few more steps into the room, her shoes silent on the thick rug. All about her, shelves of books-normally the most welcome of all sights-loomed. The library was an impressive part of Floors Castle She was just about to call Kirk's name when the large wing-backed chair before the fireplace creaked and she caught sight of his left hand as he gripped his cane and rose. He saw her, and then glanced at the pocket watch he held in his other hand. ”You're late.”
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